


Tho Happy Togethah

by A_Damned_Scientist



Category: Farscape
Genre: F/M, Hate Sex, Lingerie, Starburst Challenge, Stockings, Virtual Reality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:30:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5459837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Damned_Scientist/pseuds/A_Damned_Scientist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John takes up the challenge to show the Pwinceth a really, really good time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tho Happy Togethah

**Author's Note:**

> Setting: John Quixote, in the game.
> 
> Warnings and background: Unmitigated smut. And, just so as we are clear, not especially romantic unmitigated smut. John’s head is sometimes not in a good place. I hadn’t intended the darker elements when I started writing, it was just meant to be smut, but, as ever, the characters started demanding I say why John might behave in that way, and, if he did feel like that, in those circumstances, then how would he actually behave... push it.... And so the story started spiralling into darker places……
> 
> And yes, this fic is full of cliches.... deliberately so! 
> 
> Thanks to Cordelia Sun for some interesting imagery from her fic Fantasy and Reality, which I gratefully/shamelessly reused/snurched here. You’ll know it when you see it. Oh, and also for nudging me in the right direction for my Unexpected Ending.
> 
> Disclaimer, not mine, and no money made

Pwinceth Aeryn sat up, looking more than a little dishevelled from being thoroughly kissed by John and then tossed away onto the silken sheets of her giant bed.  
  
But John was surprised: the game had not reset. It was still running.  
  
Frell.  
  
“Chiana?” John asked, wondering if she knew why the game hadn’t reset.  
  
“Uh...  I don’t know,” Chiana replied, clearly unsettled by his question.  
  
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” John asked. He was starting to grow a little suspicious about Chiana. Was she really what he thought she was? She’d been acting a bit odd for a while now.  
  
“I don’t....  know!” she repeated, deepening John’s suspicions.  
  
“Hey, I know,” Stark leered. “Maybe you have to do more than kiss her? Maybe Kiss is a metaphor for showing her a really good time?”Aeryn smiled sluttishly and patted the bed beside her. “Yeah, and maybe Chiana has to kiss her too?” Stark continued, clearly enjoying the chance to voice his fantasies. “Huh? Can I watch? I love to watch!”  
  
“You wanna see it?” John spluttered, enraged by Stark’s words, Aeryn’s tralky behaviour and the suspicion that somewhere along the line Chiana had become just another character in the game too: “Fine, let’s finish this!”  
  
The Pwinecth responded to his words with a flirty pout, which took in her whole face and even extended as far as a squeeze of her shoulders, forcing up her loomas. John seized her upper arms in his hands and pulled her close, up off the bed, locking lips for another bruisingly passionate kiss.  
  
“Oh yeth….”  Her eyelids fluttered closed and her head tilted back as she came up for air, lips softening, anticipating the next kiss, or maybe something More. “That’f what I want!”  
  
“Rip her dress off, John!” John heard Chiana encouraging him. That sealed the deal. No way was that really Chiana, John reckoned. He was being played by the game!  
  
“No need to rip…” Stark smirked, not taking his leering gaze off of John for a microt. “Not unless he really wants to …”  
  
John recognised well enough the look the Pwinceth was giving him: Coy, yet eager lust. However, his feelings were entirely different. There was lust, sure, but also anger. Anger at the game, anger at the game-Stark and what he now suspected was the game-Chiana, but more than that, anger at Aeryn for all that she had put him though over the last couple of cycles, personified in the Pwinceth. Anger at all he wanted but hadn’t had, couldn’t have. Well, maybe he could have it all in the game, spiced with a piquant dusting of revenge. No questions, no consequences. Work out some issues, clear the air, as he might have once said. Or, less eloquently, maybe just indulge in a virtual-reality, consequence-free hate-frell. That was definitely an avenue to consider.  
  
“Strip!” John demanded, using the tip of his sword to push Aeryn’s dress off of her shoulder.   
  
Aeryn began complying, slowly and with great deliberation. She stared straight back at him boldly as she undid the belt at her waist. “Do you mean to have youwa wicked way with me, then?”  
  
“We’ll see,” john smirked as she allowed the garment to fall to the floor. What did it matter? It was just a stupid game, after all. “Dress next.”  
  
“But mah laces do up at tha back…”  
  
“Chiana?” John called, still holding his sword threateningly aloft. “Undo her lacings!”  
  
Chiana nodded and, with a knowing smile and no words came up behind Aeryn and began tugging at fastenings. Aeryn stood as still as she could, defiantly returning John’s gaze as, one jerk at a time, her dress began to visibly loosen around her.  
  
“Oh my! It seems I am undone!” Aeryn announced as her bodice began to fall away, revealing to John the enticing sight of the Pwinceth’s heaving bosom straining against the lacy cups of some sort of low-cut corset. The undergarment was barely high enough to contain her nipples, not that that mattered, seeing as it was almost completely transparent anyway. As the bodice moved lower, the skirt began falling too, exposing the lower half of the corset, then her suspender straps, which were threaded beneath her small, lacy panties fastened at each side with a beguiling bow, and then finally the lace tops of the white stockings which encased her smooth, creamy thighs.  
  
“Do you like what you fee?” the Pwinceth gestured at herself with flowing hands, moving her weight from foot to foot and posing like a contestant in a beauty pageant.  
  
“Hell yeah!” John smirked.  
  
“So, do you intend to wavish me, John Cwyton?” The Pwinceth continued, her breath now coming in deep, eager gasps which did amazing things to her loomas and even more amazing things to John’s libido. She licked her lips, eyes wide with excited hope as she stepped out of her pooled dress, elegant calves shown off by her ivory, high heeled stiletto shoes.  
  
“Anything else you want, John?” Pip leered. “A threesome, maybe?”  
  
“Nah, Pip, just hop along, and take the dress with you…” John answered, his eyes drinking in the sight of the fantasy Aeryn.  
  
“Is it your wish, fir, that I continue to diswobe?” Aeryn arched a single eyebrow and moved her hands to one of the clasps holding her stockings in place.  
  
John didn’t answer, but simply took hold of her wrists and moved her hands away, placing them on his hips. Then he ran his hands up to take possession of one of her undulating globes. It was firm, warm and inviting and he eased it out of the corset’s cup.  
  
“You beaft!” the Pwinceth protested, pushing against John’s chest weakly and ineffectually.  
  
“Do you need another hand, Crichton?” Chi smirked. John shook his head. “Looks like she’s struggling. Maybe you need to tie her up?”   
  
“Tie me up....?” The Pwinceth gasped. She bit her lip and grinned. She stopped pushing against John and presented him with her wrists, pushing them tightly together, while her eyes went wide with obvious excitement.  
  
“How could you think of doing fuch a thing to a poower, innofent lady?” She smirked and nodded, making it quite clear to John that that was indeed exactly what she wanted him to do.  
  
“You….” John chuckled. With a shake of his head he threw her back onto the bed. She bounced lightly on the oversprung mattress, gasping in faux-horror and very un-faux excitement. John quickly worked his way around the bed, taking the scarf-like silk drape that lay at each corner and using them to loosely secure each of her limbs in turn.  
  
“Good, good,” Stark encouraged, ringing his hands together. “But how are you going to show her a really, really good time if you’re all dressed up?” Stark clicked his fingers and John suddenly found himself to be naked, kneeling on the bed as he secured the last sash around Aeryn’s left ankle. As he moved he felt his cock skim enticingly across Aeryn’s stocking-clad leg. It felt so fantastic he had to keep reminding himself this was just a game, that none of this was real. Not moving from his place, crouched over her legs, he turned so he could face her.  
  
“It feems I am at youwa merfee John Cwyton. What wicked thing are you going to do wiff me firft?” John looked down at the Pwinceth. She looked and felt, absolutely amazing. And she was inviting him to have his way with her any way he wanted. And now he was naked and sporting quite a remarkable erection. Hell, it was only a game, he reminded himself, blanking out game Chi and game-Stark as best he could. No one would ever know.   
  
“What happens in the game stays in the game…” Stark encouraged, seemingly echoing his thoughts. John slid a hand between the tops of the Pwinceth’s thighs, fingers rubbing her through the thin lace of her underwear as he sought and found her sex. She squeaked appreciatively and writhed enticingly.   
  
“You bounder! Unhand me!” she gasped, contradicting her otherwise obviously encouraging reactions. John slipped a finger or three inside her panties and began to stroke between her moist folds. He pushed deeper, upwards and backwards and was rewarded with the sights, sounds and sensations of her writhing, mewling and bucking, her hips rocking eagerly, frelling back against the pressure from his fingers and thumb. John’s cock stiffened further as his senses feasted on her appearance and her reactions. And even though he now clearly had her in the grip of ecstasy, he knew that he was not doing all of this for her: he was doing it for him. There was almost nothing as thrilling to John as watching a woman come by his own hand, and rarely if ever had he had such an enticing example of that than he was enjoying at that very moment.  
  
But not even the most orgasmic moment could last forever, even for a game-sprite. Finally the Pwinceth’s breathing became less intense and her writhing and rocking diminished. John withdrew his fingers, moving to toy with her garter straps.    
  
Aeryn opened her eyes and raised her head.  
  
“I fuppofe you mean to wavish me now?” She enquired with a deep, breathy tone and a hopeful expression.  
  
“Yes!” Stark heckled. “Ravish her!”  
  
“Do it!” Chiana cackled. “She wants it, you want it. We all want it!”  
  
John most certainly did want it. And what the hell, this was all just a game, Stark and Chi nothing more than sprites in the game, Aeryn likewise? But why rush things? He ran his hands under her eema then dived down between her inviting thighs.  
  
He could clearly smell her arousal now, and it only served to drive his own lust to new highs. The game was truly amazing in the level of immersion that it allowed!  
  
John’s tongue lashed out, eliciting whimpers from the Pwinceth. His fingers found one lace bow and tugged – the ribbons fell apart in a most gratifying way. Switching hands he tugged the other bow undone, then sent a hand up to find her looma while his tongue continued to delve deeper. She tasted fantastic, but what really got him going was when her hips started bucking against his face, just at the moment when his hand retrieved her second nipple from its starchy lace covering.  
  
John could hear the encouraging words from game-Stark and –Chiana, but he only had ears for the Pwinceth’s protesting yet rapturous gaspings.  
  
“No!”  
  
“You beaft!”  
  
“How dare you!”   
  
After John knew-not-how-long his cock could take it no longer. His sword needed sheaving. He sat up, looked down appreciatively at her still-writhing, half-lingerie-clad form and hitched up her hips by bending her legs at the knee, sliding his knees beneath her ass. His cock bucked wildly on her thighs then her abdomen, begging for more.  
  
“Yes, John!” Stark leered. “It’s the only way out of the game! Frell her!”   
  
Game-Chiana, twitchy with her own excitement, nodded her agreement. “Go on John!”  
  
John lined himself up at Aeryn’s entrance. “Be gentle!” The Pwinceth whispered, as his cockhead seated itself between her soaking lips.  
  
“Gentle?” John smiled, feeling suddenly vengeful for all that Aeryn had put him through. “I don’t think so…”  
  
He pressed his steely rod slowly and steadily into her, revelling in every tight, wet inch he gained, every little murmur of thrilled faux-protest that slipped between Aeryn’s quivering lips, until he was completely buried in her. As he ground his pubic bone against hers, her eyes and mouth went wide with what John took to be pleasure and maybe a little discomfort.   
  
“Pleaffe!” she begged, although whether it was for him to persist or desist John no longer cared – he reckoned he knew well enough what the game-Aeryn wanted, almost as well as he knew what he wanted. And what she wanted mattered not one jot to him: This, for once, could be all about him.  
  
“I’m gonna please someone, alright,” John sneered. He took firm hold of her hips and began to pound, slowly at first but soon enough for all he was worth. The Pwinceth yelped, bucked and screamed in response. Even Chiana gasped at the savagery of the frelling he was now bestowing on the game Aeryn.  
  
“That’s... for all... the times... you led me... on then... backed out….!”  
  
Aeryn balled the sheets in her hands.  
  
“All... the times... you left me... alone...”  
  
Aeryn’s head canted back, exposing her long neck and causing her hips to buck upwards, allowing him to push another quarter dench deeper into her.   
  
“For running... off...  with him....”  
  
Her loomas undulated in time with his thrusts and her hair spilled loose.  
  
“For not... telling... me about... the pregnancy...!”  
  
John could feel her internal muscles squeezing and rippling in inward-moving waves, pulling him deeper in and closer to the edge.  
  
“FOR BRINGING... SCORPY... ABOARD...!”   
  
She responded to his rough, angry thrusts by pushing her thighs against his waist and her knees into the small of his back, driving him harder against her.  
  
“FRELL... YOU... AERYN!” He snarled savagely. She clamped down hard on him. He could feel the edge galloping up on him. For the first time in his life, he didn’t care whether his partner was ready or not.    
  
“YES! FRELL ME JOHN!” Aeryn shouted back. Her eyes were clamped shut, her breasts, thoroughly dislodged from the cups of the corset, were now bouncing around like jellies. That was it...  John let himself go, pouring his lust, his anger, his pent up frustration into her.  
  
A matching, high-pitched, animal keening came from the Pwinceth’s throat. John knew she was climaxing too – but he put all his attention on his own pleasure and, over another half dozen fierce thrusts he emptied himself into her until he had nothing left to give. It was the most intense, longest orgasm he thought he had ever had. His vision even went blurry as lights flashed before his eyes in the moment of climax....  
  
 ‘***’  
  
The flashing lights before John’s eyes momentarily disorientated him... As he blinked the flashes away he was surprised to see he now stood at the top of a long, wide, marble staircase, which swept down into what looked very much like an opulent casino. The floor of the room thronged with elegantly, richly dressed patrons. Closer to him, what looked like a paparazzi was moving aside from John’s path, grinning at him and cradling a ridiculously complicated camera....  that would explain the flashing lights. But not why John was now dressed in a white tuxedo. Or what had become of the Pwinceth.  
  
John decided that the only thing to do was to move down the stairs, into the room, and try and find out what the frell was happening. As he moved he felt a tight bulge beneath his jacket. He patted it, feeling the shape of a small automatic pistol. That was when he spotted them, over by the roulette wheel: That goatee beard, tightly bound ponytail and superior smirk were instantly recognisable as Crais, despite the black Tux the captain was currently wearing. And beside him, looking like a million bored and dangerous dollars, stood Aeryn. Her sexy, tight, black dress was showing a preposterous amount of flesh, yet it matched her long, thick braid and her sullen expression to a T. Just as John was starting to register how everyone else at the table seemed both awed and terrified by Crais and Aeryn and their small posse of dark-suited and sunglass-wearing heavies, a figure stepped in front of John, blocking his view and his way.  
  
It was Stark, now dressed as what John took to be the Maitre’d of the establishment. New game level, new rules? But where was Chiana, and what role would she be playing?  
  
John’s hand moved inside his jacket, but didn’t unholster what he found there: Winona, his faithful Walther PPK pistol. At least he had something he could rely on, even if there was no sign yet of Pip.  
  
“Welcome to the next level,” Stark addressed him, wringing his hands in an obsequious way, like some sort of virtual Macawber. “We have been expecting you... Mr.....? Stark asked, ending with an obvious interrogative uptick to his tone.  
  
“Crichton, John Crichton,” John replied almost without thinking.   
  
  
The end


End file.
